Mass Effect: Memorandum
by I Max95
Summary: Shepard, the first human Spectre, died a hero's death on the Citadel, his killer still at large. two years later and Saren is hiding on Omega, trying to survive when he crosses paths with the Collectors, sensing Reaper influence he is forced to join forces with an old enemy to stop them, even as the Normandy's surviving crew hunt him. REWRITE


Mass Effect: Memorandum

Chapter 1

Old Wounds

_I dream of the Citadel, every night, I dream I'm in that same place once again, standing atop that platform, battling a familiar foe, we fight and struggle, we spill blood and open up wounds in each other. He gives a valiant effort, but in the end I still plant 2 bullets in his chest and send him to the floor to die, a failure to his cause. But in my dreams I'm not the one who pulls the trigger, it's always like I'm floating, just out of reach, every time I try to reach out and stop myself I'm dragged further and further back into space like some torturous game played by fate. In the end, Shepard still dies, and when I finally reach myself and take back control, it's already happened, and all I see is the flash of light as the grenade goes off, the one Shepard set off in one last act of defiance, one that wins him the day…and leaves me alive._

_I realized a long time ago that he is the lucky one, he's the one who died a hero, died one death that ended every bit of pain and suffering for him…I'm the one who now has to live as a coward, and a murderer. Not a day goes by that I don't think about it, what I could have done differently…the lives I could have saved, the dept I incurred against thousands of innocent people cannot be paid, not by me, not in this life… it was enough to make me hold a gun to my temple, and almost pull the trigger._

_But what a waste it would be, to end my life, I had the power to change the world, and the Reapers took that from me, made it theirs, used it to their advantage to get what they wanted, that is something I will never forget. Now every time I close my eyes I can still see Sovereign, every time I think my mind is my own I feel their thoughts snake their way into my brain, it takes all the will I have left to keep my actions my own._

_They will pay for what they did to me, even if it takes until my last breath, takes every ounce of strength that I have left, they will pay._

_That is my purpose…and it's all I have left in this world._

_### _

Saren's eyes lazily opened as the draining, wining sound of the alarm resounded and echoed off the walls of the apartment he called home. The walls were painted a dingy, disgusting shade of yellow and the floors some strange and woeful kind of carpet, stained with what Saren smelled to be piss, booze, and several organic excretions from, he guessed, many different species.

His head throbbed, and his eyes were sore and bloodshot. The pain in his head thumped rhythmically like a drum and filled his brain with frustration and confusion as the morning's shower of blood red light poured in from the streets and shops of the Space station known as Omega. that was always all he seemed to remember about Omega, the color red, the red lights rudely waking him from his restless sleep, the red armor or the Krogan Mercs who patrolled his neighborhood, and the red blood that spilled from them when they tried to get Saren to pay protection money. as such the color began to disgust him, and set his teeth on edge.

But the alarm, the alarm was despicable, loud, and incredibly piercing, the clock was given to him by a friend, a friend who employed him, gave him work, and didn't realize that Saren never. Ever. Overslept.

In one swift motion he grabbed hold of the box, tore it from the wall and hurled it at the opposite wall, breaking it into a thousand pieces. After the morning's release of his pent up aggression he rose from the bed and began his morning routine.

He got dressed in a simple set of jet black clothing ending in a long black overcoat that Saren favored simply for its ability to completely hide his face when he needed to. Next came a trip to the bathroom where he touched up his face paint, a simply design of black and white with striking sharp lines slicing in every direction across his skin, a design he made sure looked like no Turian clan in the galaxy, he was thankful that Turian faces aren't that distinctive in nature, at least to other species, it's likely someone would have recognized him by that point had it not been for that simple biological adaptation.

Lastly he found his gun, a simple carniflex hand cannon, the only gun he could find with the meager credits he had at the time. As he put the gun in the holster strapped to his side he stretched slightly and pulled a small muscle in his abdomen, it would have been nothing had it not been for the wound he suffered there 2 years before during the battle of the Citadel. He grunted and held his side as he leaned on the nearest wall, wincing and groaning in pain. Once the spasm subsided he lifted himself from this state and went for the door. He had implants, training, years of experience that kept him in fighting condition, but a wound like that does a lot to slow a man down, especially one of his age.

The wound was caused by the grenade that Commander Shepard, the hero of the citadel, armed right before he died, it saved the Citadel from the Reapers, it destroyed the console Saren was going to use to open the way for the rest of the Reaper fleet, and in turn, it send shrapnel into Saren, slicing him open and sending him into a coma that lasted several weeks. They kept him alive so that they could put him on the stand, have a trial for him, and inevitably convict him to death or life in prison, depending on if Saren was willing to disclose all of the information of the enemy they thought he was leading, but Saren never gave them the chance, he escaped, even with not-quite-healed wounds and a mind still partially indoctrinated, he managed to escape captivity and loose himself upon the Galaxy, according to the public, he died from his wounds…governments liked to cover things like that up.

Saren left his apartment and descended the steps, giving his usual greeting of angered silence to the landlord, an older Turian woman, though not much older than Saren himself, who turned 46 the month before. The way the woman just gave up and decided to retreat from the world is just one of the many things Saren hated about this place.

The old woman grunted as Saren passed, and Saren responded in kind. He was off to the local watering hole, probably the most expensive bar on Omega, and it's leader's own personal throne room. It was called Afterlife, and it, and Omega, were owned by an asari by the name of Aria t'Loak, someone who Saren had a bit of a history with. During his missions Aria has ended up being both an asset and a hindrance to his objective depending on what it was, as the leader of Omega she was privy to all of its dealings, some she would tell to Saren, some she decided to keep hidden, which only gave him an excuse to dig further. But all in all Saren was under the impression that Aria was fond of him, because despite how much of an annoyance he ended up being for her, he was still alive.

As Saren reached the place several minutes later from his Apartment only a few blocks away he noticed the smell first, sweat and alcohol, it gave the bar section of the establishment an air of depravity and desperation that few places could match. The obnoxious red lighting illuminated the silhouettes of the asari dancers moving and swaying on the platforms laid out for them atop the Afterlife sign. The drunks and the mercenaries crowded the room, and so many addicts and underachievers sat lonely in their booths. As Saren looked about the room, the only feeling he felt was pity, for everyone around him, and for himself, who fell so low as to be on the same level as everyone in that room.

"you like a drink?" said a sweet sounding Asari voice from behind Saren, as he turned he saw an Asari in a black and red clothing suit, she wore dark blue face paint that barely contrasted her blue skin, and she wore a smile that seemed to be entirely genuine…she was behind the counter staring at Saren with her elbows on the counter "or are you just gonna stand around and look pretty?"

Saren walked to the counter and sat down on a stool he looked up at the VIP section of the bar, and saw the usual lighting turned off, Aria wasn't in "I'm waiting for a friend" he replied in his same gravelly voice, a voice that should put anyone off, but the Asari just nodded and kept up her smile.

"so I repeat the question, you want a drink?"

Saren shook his head "no"

"well I'm having one" she took out something blue and extravagant and poured it into a wineglass that she quickly took and began drinking. "I'm new" she said "if you couldn't tell…but you I've noticed, you come here every day…girl tends to notice when someone gets invited up to Aria's chambers"

"I work for her"

"what kind of work?"

"the kind I don't talk about" Saren groaned and looked back to the VIP section, he liked the attention, he just hated distractions.

"ah…so what's your story stranger?"

Saren sighed and changed his mind "forget what I said, get me something…something strong" he really didn't want to think up any fake stories right then, so he evaded the subject.

"alright" she took out a large oddly shaped bottle with a black greasy substance inside, when it was poured out it looked like the fuel someone puts in sky cars.

"looks like shit"

"hey I just pour the stuff…it's called Quarian whiskey…apparently they use this stuff on their engines as well as their drinking…and it'll knock you on your ass, guaranteed"

Saren took a sip of the substance and immediately winced as it burned on the way down, it was also flavorless.

"what's your name?" the girl asked

"Soll" Saren said, hesitantly giving his fake identity

"my name's Sansa…but I hang around a lot of…other species, they've taken to calling me Blue"

"seems a bit racist" Saren said grimly

"I kind of like the name…hated it at first but…it's grown on me"

The lights on the VIP lounge lit up behind Saren and he turned to see them

"well" Blue said as she found a rag and began wiping down the tables "I guess that's your cue to leave"

Saren nodded and waved his Omni-tool over the counter to pay for the drink before standing up and heading to the VIP lounge, whiskey glass in hand. At first the guards stopped him, but he simply stood his ground and gave them a look as he kept sipping his drink, a look that said all they needed to know, that it would be highly unhealthy for them to still be in his way when he finished his drink. And when he finished it off and set it on a nearby counter, the guards had moved to let him in.

He suddenly found himself in a different world…a different feeling to the rest of Omega, Saren could hear the faint bellows of the fans as they hit the lounge, keeping it at a cool, pleasant temperature, it added a scent of expensive fabrics and other fine pleasantries. Saren knew that it was all just a symbol… a way of showing those below here where they belonged…she belongs up here in the comfortable air, and they belong down there in the pit of sweat and heavy heat.

Aria turned a bored eye toward Saren as he arrived "you're late" she said simply as she turned her eyes back toward the bar and the patrons.

"I was here before you got here" Saren said "enjoying the pleasant atmosphere"

"skip the sarcasm…I have a job for you" Aria stood up and turned toward her subjects in the bar, her back to Saren "there's a group, who visits Omega from time to time…a group that are being referred to as the Collectors…because of their strange behaviors, taking specimens from many different species, but lately all they seem to take are humans…slavery's bad for a lot of businesses out here in the Terminus systems, I want you to listen in on the collector's next meet, I want you to find out what their planning and I want you to report back to me..you're skilled, but I don't want you to do anything rash, like trying to fight them, understand?"

"why me? It's a simple recon job"

"2 reasons, one, I already sent someone without your skills, all we found was ash in his place…and two, you were a fool enough to trust me when you first arrived, which makes you one of the only people I can trust"

Saren growled and nodded as he left the VIP lounge, the sweet smell of the air lingering around him.

He wasted no time leaving the Bar behind and began to head to the coordinates Aria sent to his Omni-tool. An alleyway in the Primus sector, or the Factory district as most people knew it. everybody knew the factories, they were the place someone goes if they have no other way to make a living. their used by many different people, construction of illegal weapons technology, illegal medical tech, and in the block that Saren walked onto, he could see the crimson dust clouds bellow from the chimneys of a nearby foundry, smelling the telltale, burning scene of Red Sand.

he heard a sound, the sound of people, and allot of them. Saren spotted a nearby abandoned Building, windows broken and walls torn and shredded, the remnants of blood and bullet holes in the walls, he ducked inside it and hid from the encroaching group.

he could hear their voices, not deep enough to be Turian, not high enough to be Salarian, and male, so that ruled out Asari, humans, he learned long ago how to spot the difference. there were three walking forward, Saren listened to the steps, and they were dragging along something that hovered, something big.

"I don't get it" said the first voice "we got old men, red sand addicts, and other assorted low lifes...all human, what do the collectors want with these"

the word Collector caught Saren's ear, he raised his head slightly and peered over the top of his cover. he saw three men in armor, fully covered in blue, with the symbol of the Blue Sons emblazoned on their front. between them was a large cage full of humans, craggily, desperate creatures that seemed that they were clinging just barely to life even before they were thrown in the cage.

"doesn't matter" said a second merc "boss says we give them our worst captives, the ones that won't last any longer, no use wasting good bodies on the bug eyes.

Saren felt it...that familiar easiness that occurred when his mind was slipping away. it was less like a painful, torturous spike in his skull, and more like an old familiar hand on your shoulder, putting you at ease, comforting you, helping you reach a state of submissiveness not by force, but because eventually you want it too. then the hand tightens its grip, thrashing and tugging till it pulls you out, and you become unmade, something less than sentient, less than real.

Saren knew this feeling and panicked, holding his skull and trying to regulate his breathing, starting slow and ending up hyperventilating. it took all his ability just to stay quiet and not be heard. he raised his head once more and saw them, large humanoids with a disgusting brown skin, insectoid eyes and short transparent wings that allowed them to fly to this place and land here.

Saren couldn't take it any longer, he collapsed to the floor and held both hands over his face, this was the closest he's ever come to going back to that place, that dark place, the place he went to when he first saw Sovereign and fell under his influence. he knew, without a doubt, that whatever these Collectors were, they were made by the Reapers.

"we brought the slaves" one of the Mercs said "now where's the tech"

"_we have found another way_" said a deep and piercing voice that seemed to speak inside Saren's mind as well as into his ears.

"what do you mean?"

"_we can acquire subjects without your aid_" the collectors chattered and clicked "_you are no longer required_"

"but you need us" Saren heard several weapons buzz to life "wait! no!" just then a loud and high pitched noise shot through the air, like a laser firing, just at that moment red liquid sprayed out and painted the walls of the building Saren hid inside, adding another coat of organic paint to the already covered walls.

then all hell broke loose, beams fired wildly, blood sprayed and guts flew around as the mercs breathed their last. when that was over Saren found the courage to look out and watch as the Collectors sized up their prey in the cages.

"_unsuitable_" said the booming, commanding voice of the Collectors _"invalid, they will taint the subjects...terminate"_

Saren saw his chance, while every collector trooper was firing on the captives, executing them, he made his escape, using their death as a distraction.

he held onto his skull as his mind continued to fall closer to the edge. soon he was drunkenly stumbling through the streets, his mind frayed and broken as he struggled to fight the influence so rooted in his brain that it took everything to push it out every time is slid back in. it felt calming to let it take him, the pain only began when he tried to stop it, and when he finally succeeded, the pain was almost too much to bear.

he found himself passing out as he fell through a door in the maintenance shafts, and once again he fell into the same crimson lit room, with a bass thumping and hammering his skull, and the smell of piss and broken dreams in the air.

**Note: so yeah, attempt number 2, not as shit this time around huh? at least in terms of the first chapter**

**and to those of you who actually read my first attempt, I'm sorry, but although I was happy how well the last few chapters came out I still think I could have done a lot better, and so I decided to rewrite the story, make a few changes. plus the first few chapters of the old one were total shit and were putting off new readers.**

**just another note, as these chapters are longer and are more detailed, it might still take a while for the next chapter to come out. but even still I have over ten chapters laid out in terms of events and progression, so there is that.**

**even if I start new projects I want any readers to know that I will never forget this story, or give up on it. sometimes inspiration isn't kind and I can't get any writing done, but I can promise that no matter how long it takes, I will finish this story**

**review if you'd like, cuz no author doesn't like reviews, if they say otherwise, they're liars**

**I max OUT!**


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